Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [33]
Despite the efficiency of recall that his phenomenal work-rate promised, Gary Liss was almost as useless as Lynne Twitchett when it came to the details leading up to Margaret Priddy's death. He had been on the early shift before she was killed - seven in the morning until three in the afternoon - and had gone to the pictures that night.
'Alone?' said Marvel.
'No,' said Liss, then volunteered, 'with my girlfriend.'
'What did you see?'
'Some old French crap at the art-house place.'
'Not a film buff?' asked Reynolds.
'Not all that foreign bollocks.'
'Can you remember the title?' persisted Marvel - it was a fact that could be checked.
'Mister Somebody's Vacation, I think.'
'National Lampoon?' suggested Marvel.
'Nah, something French.'
'Monsieur Hulot's Holiday?'
Trust Reynolds.
'Yeah,' said Liss. 'Total junk.'
'I agree,' said Marvel, although he hadn't seen it. It was just to piss Reynolds off. 'Give me Will Smith any day.'
'Exactly,' said Liss, turning a sheet over a blanket and tucking it in ruthlessly. 'I, Robot.'
'How about Dune?'
'Yeah. You a fan?'
'No. You left a book at Margaret Priddy's.'
Liss looked blank for a second, then smiled. 'That's where it is!'
'How did you get into this line of work?' Marvel asked Liss as they moved to the next room. The man was starting to interest him.
Liss shrugged. 'I cared for my father while he died. Lost my job because of it, so when I started looking again, it was just something I knew I could do.'
'What did you do before that?'
'Nothing special. Factory work. Glad to lose it, the way things worked out.'
'What did your father die of?' asked Reynolds.
'Lung cancer,' said Liss without emotion. 'And I didn't help him along, if that's what you're thinking.' He winked at Reynolds, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
'So how did you get on with Mrs Priddy?' Marvel asked.
Liss looked a little confused by the sudden switch, but that was good - to catch them off balance ...
'Wasn't much to get along with.' He shrugged. 'She couldn't say anything or even let you know how she was feeling.' He stopped bustling and stood still for the first time since they'd started talking to him. 'It was fucking awful, 'scuse my French. I mean, the people in here, they're old and lots are sick, but at least they can let you know what they want, but her ...' He picked a bundle of used sheets off the floor. 'It was like she was already dead. If she hadn't died I'd have left soon. Depressing.'
They followed him to the next bedroom.
'You think maybe it was a mercy killing then?' said Marvel carefully, but Liss was not fazed by the question.
'Could be,' he said and flapped open a new sheet.
'You could understand something like that?' Marvel asked.
Liss didn't hesitate. 'If she was my mother I'd have done it myself.'
Reynolds and Marvel didn't speak for a long time as they drove back to the farm.
Reynolds broke the silence.
'You think that was a confession? A kind of double bluff?'
'I don't know,' said Marvel. It was not something he often admitted to, but on this occasion he felt it was OK to be a bit confused.
'He had a door key, he hated the job, he obviously has no compunction about euthanasia ...'
'But to say it right out loud like that - to us!'
'I know,' said Reynolds. 'He'd have to be a psychopath.'
Marvel shrugged. 'Yes, he would.'
*
Less than an hour after Reynolds and Marvel got back to Springer Farm, Grey and Singh returned from interviewing Skew Ronnie Trewell and everyone crammed into Marvel's room to hear how they'd got on.
'It's not him,' said Grey.
'Yeah, boss, I don't think he's our man,' said Singh more tactfully.
Marvel was unwilling to let the only tentative lead they'd got from their sweep of the village go so easily.
'He got an alibi?'
The two detectives exchanged looks.
'Well, he says he was asleep,'